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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109360">Náttmál</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/salinebones/pseuds/salinebones'>salinebones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vikings (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Smut, M/M, No Beta we die like vikings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Well a little plot, era appropriate gender binaries, idk go ask a christian, mention of religion, probably blasphemous, the plot is their relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/salinebones/pseuds/salinebones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a continuous pattern between the two of them; where Ragnar often found himself frantic, and searching, Athelstan was always there, calm and worshipful, and providing many of the answers Ragnar so restlessly sought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Athelstan/Ragnar Lothbrok, implied Athelstan/Lagertha/Ragnar Lothbrok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Náttmál</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello there! </p><p>this is not beta-d and i'm not a native english speaker so please be kind. </p><p>I'd be more than happy to read what you think about my first fic in this fandom. </p><p>Title taken from Sólstafir's song with the same name, feel free to listen.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> náttmál {hv} [kl. 21, markaði  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> upphaf 8. og síðustu  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> eyktar sólarhringsins]  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> náttmál {n} [the beginning </em>
</p><p>
  <em> of the last period of eyktir,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> which is equivalent to 9 in the evening.]</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"You have a woman's hips, Athelstan." </p><p>Ragnar said it as he slid his hands under Athelstan's shirt to fit against his pelvis, caressed the hipbones under rough woven fabric. </p><p> </p><p>"How so?" Athelstan asked, fingers skidding curiously over Ragnar's right forearm, his eyes darting up from under long lashes to meet icy blues. He knew how to act coy in a way that would make Ragnar's lungs thrum with longing, lust even; had learnt a lot in those years living with the norsemen. Years before, in another life, he would not have dared even think about this; the lowest, the filthiest act, called blasphemous, called sodomy. </p><p> </p><p>And now? Now Athelstan felt that the truest kind of worship, of whichever higher entity you believed in, was to love and praise those dearest to your heart. </p><p> </p><p>They were in Athelstan's hut adjoining the king's longhouse, the dying sunlight of the late summer sun casting long shadows over their bodies, the crackling, dry heat of the fire filling the room, already lit to chase away the beginnings of autumn frost, gnawing at the hem of the day. </p><p> </p><p>"We've barely talked, the past days", Ragnar had said upon entering, throwing himself theatrically onto the bed in the corner. Nothing much had happened in the time between, and somehow everything had happened, so now they were here - with Athelstan straddling Ragnar's hips, and shyly throwing a glance, and Ragnar staring all the more intense. The boldness with which Athelstan had placed himself across Ragnar's midst made his flushed cheeks all the more unbelievable; Ragnar adored the fact that the former monk still had the capacity to blush at such a simple thing, after all they had done to each other, and with each other.  </p><p> </p><p>Athelstan looked away again so quickly that Ragnar couldn't help himself but laugh, gently; he sat up and pulled him closer.</p><p> </p><p>"They're soft. I like it." </p><p>Impossibly, the blush on Athelstan's cheeks deepened. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, what do you expect? I was a monk. I used to be an artist among my brothers. My body hasn't been hardened by years of farming and fighting." Almost apologetically he said it, as if he was somehow lacking.</p><p> </p><p>Ragnar cracked a genuine smile at that. </p><p> </p><p>"You are good the way you are." He carefully considered Athelstan's face, raising a hand to tilt his chin with the thumb, pull at his lower lip, sliding his palm up to cup his cheek. Athelstan pushed his face into the touch and closed his eyes. The gesture made Ragnar’s heart flutter in his chest like a juvenile bird, foreign and wild. The feeling locked in his throat, but he still managed to say something. </p><p> </p><p>"Your god made you this way with a purpose in mind. He is not unlike the norns, weaving the Web of Wyrd." </p><p> </p><p>Athelstan opened his eyes again, his face still pressed into Ragnar’s palm, and covered it with his own hand. “Maybe they are more alike than we know. Maybe they exist together.” </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe they do." Ragnar cocked his head to look at Athelstan curiously, icy blue eyes piercing into him so intently that Athelstan felt like Ragnar was touching his bare soul. It was a continuous pattern between the two of them; where Ragnar often found himself frantic, and searching, Athelstan was always there, calm and worshipful, and providing many of the answers Ragnar so restlessly sought. He brought guidance with a soothing hand, much like Lagertha - and much like Lagertha, he knew well what was on Ragnar's mind with just one look at his face, just like in this very moment. </p><p> </p><p>With a determination Athelstan knew well, Ragnar drew him closer, pulled up his knees and planted his feet on the mattress so Athelstan was inclined to lean back into it. </p><p> </p><p>“Let us not talk about such things any longer. I came here to feel your skin on mine." Ragnar accent had gotten thicker, as it tended to do when he was excited, or aroused; they often spoke in a mix of their languages, and Athelstan enjoyed the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue and lips wrapping around the foreign words just as much as listening to Ragnar forming the sounds of his own mother tongue mingled with that of his norse. (He had never admitted it outside of his head, but Ragnar unconsciously slipping back into norse when he was so far gone in pleasure he himself didn’t even notice was something so vulnerable and intimate Athelstan never wanted to be without it again.)</p><p> </p><p>"When you entered you complained that we’ve not talked in too long." </p><p>Two can play a game of distraction, Athelstan thought, and if Ragnar wanted to claim him tonight he might as well try and earn it. </p><p> </p><p>"Barely, is what I said - and the past days. You are not listening to me.” Athelstan only smiled softly and gently tilted his head to the side, as if to ask if Ragnar was serious. </p><p> </p><p>“But-” and Ragnar’s voice strained as he spoke, pulling himself up to lean on his elbows, “you are right about one thing: it was too long. Every day not spent talking to you is too long." He suddenly sounded very serious. </p><p> </p><p>Athelstan settled heavier into Ragnar's core. He relaxed the muscles in his abdomen, his thighs, and allowed their bodies to meld into each other, allowed Ragnar’s body heat to seep into him like a tidal wave. </p><p> </p><p>"You sing such sweet praise, but never seek my counsel. Why is that, Ragnar? Luring me in for pleasure, but not company? For lust, but not advice? I’m beginning to think you always had filthy intentions in mind when you picked me up from Lindisfarne, and merely used my knowledge of England as an excuse.” </p><p> </p><p>“All this idle talk, yet you mean none of it.” Ragnar drew slow circles on Athelstan’s thigh with one lazy finger, his eyes focused on the movement, and a smug grin grew on his face. </p><p> </p><p> Athelstan rested his hands in his lap, fingers interlaced, allowing the moment. </p><p> </p><p>“Will you start praying now?” Ragnar asked quietly, eyes fixed on Athelstan’s folded hands, his grin growing more lopsided; Athelstan knew what he was making fun of, remembered it well, the time Ragnar and Lagertha had invited him into their bed, the time he had refused, had started to pray - and the times he hadn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“My prayers have never been answered. But you? You are flesh and blood, and you are wonderfully responsive towards my ministrations.” One of his hands pressed gently into Ragnar’s chest, felt his ribcage under skin and flesh, felt his muscle and sinew move and flex with the circulating movement under the palm of his hand, tips of his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Ragnar finally looked up, his finger stopping in its movement. His eyes were full of mischief. “And here I was thinking that you respond to me. I am king, after all.” </p><p> </p><p>“I am a free man”, Athelstan said affectionately, “and I answer to no one but my own heart.” And to prove his words he bent down, holding Ragnar’s face between both hands, pressing gently into his face, his jaw, until he opened his mouth just the tiniest bit, just enough for Athelstan to slip his tongue between and catch Ragnar in a deep kiss. </p><p> </p><p>He felt Ragnar chuckle in the back of his throat as he pull him down by the neck; his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind Athelstan’s ear, slide of their lips and tongues against each other so smooth, warm and wet as Athelstan pushed his way further into Ragnar’s mouth, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>Something about being with Ragnar always felt like being trampled by horses and steamrolled by a carriage; something in the way he nipped at Athelstan's lips and pulled his breath from his mouth, something about how the movements of his body unearthed the lowest appetites in Athelstan, those he had stifled and shunned all his life serving the church. When he was with Ragnar he felt whole and free, exhuming a desire so primal he had never known it existed until Ragnar had stripped him to his very bones. </p><p> </p><p>They broke apart with mingled breaths, their lips close, brushing against each other; “I want to be inside you”, Ragnar whispered against Athelstan’s open mouth, and from everyone else it would have sounded lewd, tasteless even, but Athelstan only nodded fervently, a hot surge of lust zapping down his spine. He felt the hard outline of Ragnar’s growing erection pressing into the swell of his own prick and gasped softly, desire thrumming in his veins, arousal pooling in his abdomen. </p><p> </p><p>With a quite effortless twist of the hips and a roll of their bodies Athelstan suddenly found himself breathless and pressed into the bed, Ragnar on top of him, sitting between his legs. Athelstan panted quietly, his head swimming; Ragnar stared down at him, eyes glistening, before he set on undressing the both of them with swift fingers. There was a well known rush to his fumbling hands that Athelstan so adored, that hunger consuming the both as they scrambled to pull layers of fabric off each other. </p><p> </p><p>“You are - utterly -” Ragnar huffed, their clothes discarded, but Athelstan never found out what exactly he was supposed to be, as he drew Ragnar back down with arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips, crashing their bodies together. He wrapped his legs around Ragnar’s waist so brazen Ragnar quite forgot what the man used to be like; hasty shows of affections, of doubt and prayer, the only intimacy he allowed a glance of his eyes, lingering too long. </p><p> </p><p>And now he found the man in his bed, on his back, their heated bodies pressed together as they kissed each others’ lips red and sore, unable to let go of each other, drinking each other in. They were wrapped up in one another, bodies rocking on the bed as each of them wanted to give and take, to feel. </p><p> </p><p>Ragnar pushed his forehead against Athelstan’s as he rolled his hips into him, helplessly stuttering out of rhythm, his desire making it hard to think straight. He reveled in each soft groan, their dicks rubbing together, hard and slippery with precome. Their mouths found each other again before exploring further; Ragnar’s gentle lips on Athelstan’s hairline, his temple, moving down to his cheekbone, the line of his beard, his sensitive throat. Athelstan gripped the pillow behind his head hard, with both fists, squirming below him when Ragnar crawled lower even; kissing and biting down Athelstan’s exposed neck, scraping his chest gently with his teeth, sucking at each nipple until Athelstan arched his back into the caress, quite so aroused he forgot where they were. Ragnar pressed a salty warm hand over his mouth - endless spilling pleas and small sounds of pleasure - urging him to be a little more quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Parting his lips, Athelstan licked Ragnar’s fingers, tried to pull them into his mouth, and Ragnar understood; he pushed two fingers Athelstan’s mouth and watched with eyes transfixed, distractedly parted lips, as the younger man wetted them with his tongue, sucked and licked until they were wet with saliva.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at you,” Ragnar crooned above him, thickness of his voice almost palpable, tastable, seeping into Athelstan in every sense of the word. “I cannot wait to ruin you, Athelstan.” </p><p> </p><p>The words produced a shiver that ran down Athelstan’s spine and he moaned around Ragnar’s fingers, breath trembling as he maintained eye contact, driving Ragnar mad with hunger. The urge to bury himself in Athelstan - right now, yesterday, always, feeling him tight and hot, their bodies sinking into each other, his skin burning where it touched his lovers’ - settled heavy in his stomach, heady in his head.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s oil on the table,” Athelstan breathed, “if you please …” The trembling arousal in his voice sent a jolt of pleasure straight to Ragnar’s groin, and if he hadn’t been rock hard already, this would have done it for him. It took him nearly no time to retrieve the oil and pour a small amount on his fingers. His hand slid up the back of Athelstan’s thigh, squeezed his muscle. Before he pressed his fingers inside Ragnar looked at Athelstan, whispering a soft “yes?”; and Athelstan’s eyes were huge and glistening in the low light of the fire and he nodded, replying “yes”, pulling Ragnar close to adorn his eyelids with fluttering kisses.</p><p> </p><p>With the oil it was almost too easy to push past the rim of tight muscle to spread Athelstan open, two fingers curling with practiced precision and producing a shudder every time Ragnar scissored them. Beneath him Athelstan was pliant and malleable, eager to finally have Ragnar inside him, and his chest heaved with the strain of pulling himself together to make this last, to find a balance between endurance and impatience. </p><p> </p><p>"Please, Ragnar," he breathlessly begged when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, back arching off the bed to meet Ragnar's fingers inside him. </p><p> </p><p>Ragnar looked at him and his eyes were dark and hooded, and both his hands gripped Athelstan’s hips so hard the skin was white when his hands came away; Athelstan didn't care, wanted to feel Ragnar, wanted to pull him close again, and finally, Ragnar complied. </p><p> </p><p>Athelstan’s eyes fluttered shut and his jaw fell open as Ragnar pushed inside slowly, his hands grasping Athelstan's thighs - so hard he hoped it would bruise - as he bottomed out; he felt hot all over, his cock enveloped in a silky heat, and it took him all his will to not throw all caution to the winds and thrust inside his lover with deep and languid thrusts. No; instead Ragnar waited, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his fingertips prickling. </p><p> </p><p>Athelstan’s hands came up to find Ragnar’s triceps and he whimpered, quietly begging him for a moment to adjust. Ragnar bent over him, his hands leaving Athelstan’s thighs, his fingers instead pushing into soft hair, carding through sweaty curls. His mouth pressed into Athelstan’s throat, shining wet with a thin sheen of sweat, licking, kissing, until Athelstan turned his face away, gasping, blush returning deeper than ever. </p><p> </p><p>Ragnar put a finger under Athelstan’s chin and pulled his face back so he could look upon it. “I want to see you”, he breathed into the space between them, the intimacy of the moment making his voice tremble with awe. Fulfilling the wish Athelstan looked at him, lips bitten raw and his cheeks still tinged so pink, looking so sweet and innocent Ragnar wanted nothing more than debauch him and destroy him until he would have trouble walking tomorrow. </p><p> </p><p>Deciding they had waited long enough Ragnar pulled back before slowly sliding inside again, then started rolling his hips in unhurried, drawn out movements, every thrust dragging at his cock as Athelstan pressed back against him, pulling at his rim as the muscle still adjusted to the burn and the stretch. The pain felt fucking divine. </p><p> </p><p>"Ragnar,” Athelstan moaned, repeating it again and again as his fingers raked up Ragnar's back and Ragnar pushed his hips into him, rhythm growing faster, almost out of control, and Athelstan mixed his lover's name with that of the Lord, mixed and repeated and repeated and mixed until they became one, until Athelstan knew no lord but Ragnar, no god but Ragnar. He was certain there was no truer worship than the toe-curling, spine-melting pleasure, the prickle on his skin he felt when they came together like this; was sure that his god and Ragnar's gods found joy in their children joined in the worship of each other. </p><p> </p><p>Every care in the world they had left for minding their surroundings was gone, thrown in the wind, Athelstan so far gone he was sure Ragnar had already fucked his brains out; he was reduced to whimpering and begging, babbling mindlessly as the pleasure consumed him, Ragnar pairing his thrusts with matching strokes to his hard length, skilled hand almost effortlessly bringing him dangerously close to his climax. </p><p> </p><p>There was not one moment where Athelstan didn't know what to feel first, what to focus on as his mind burnt with overwhelming bliss, his body alight with trembling desire, with pure need. His legs shook, locked around Ragnar’s waist, and his fingers scratched witness of his pleasure into the rippling muscle of Ragnar’s back, and everything around him, inside him, was Ragnar, only Ragnar. </p><p> </p><p>His pleasure rolled over him like a wave and Athelstan had never been so happy to drown, making the most delicious sound as his face twisted and contorted into an expression of pleasure so gorgeous and dear to Ragnar; his mouth fallen open, his eyebrows drawn together as he spilled his release all over his own stomach. Ragnar held him as he shook, felt him clench tight around his cock, drawing a surprised gasp from him, too. No matter how many times they had been together like this, no matter how many times still to come, it would always feel overwhelming and new to both of them.</p><p> </p><p>It felt like he was near exploding, Athelstan thought, Ragnar’s thrusts growing more forceful as he chased his own release, his skin hot to the touch, the sheets beneath them damp from their exertion. He held Ragnar’s face and kissed it as he faltered and fell out of rhythm, a sense of urgency overtaking him, his hot breath ghosting over Athelstan’s sweaty skin. Athelstan keened in overwhelming desperation at the force of Ragnar’s thrusts, their lips brushing together and breaths chasing each other. Tears welled up in his eyes from the overstimulation, little wanton sounds of almost confused arousal falling from his lips, joined by Ragnar’s moans. Athelstan was almost positive he was going to burst as he felt Ragnar jolt and then still, felt the hot trickle of his seed inside him. </p><p> </p><p>Ragnar almost collapsed on top of Athelstan as a deep satisfaction spread in his bones, his lungs still grasping for breath. Athelstan held him and playfully tugged at his braids, the leather cords holding them together, as Ragnar pressed his cheek to Athelstan’s chest. He hummed low, the vibrations spreading through his own face and skull and further to reverberate through Athelstan’s entire torso.</p><p> </p><p>The minutes passed without either of them noticing; the moment seemed to be looping, infinite, and only the two of them caught in it, forever entwined in one another. </p><p> </p><p>“Never am I as utterly undone as when I’m with you”, Ragnar finally mumbled as he shakily withdrew himself and laid down next to Athelstan, the words barely audible in the space between his skull and Athelstan’s chest. Athelstan still heard, though, and he gently took Ragnar’s hand and kissed each one of his fingers, his knuckles, his palm. Ragnar turned his head to look at him, an affectionate smile growing on his face and the feeling in his chest expanding so far his ribcage seemed way too small for it. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure he deserved it; he was sure, however, he wanted this to be forever. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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